


Fighters' Pass Vol. 2: Electric Boogaloo

by Elysium16



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Chicken Pox, Comedy, Crack, Cuccos (Legend of Zelda), Gen, Humor, Letters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parody, Post-World of Light, assuming i can think of any
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysium16/pseuds/Elysium16
Summary: When the cucco pox floors the Smash Mansion, it's up to Galeem and Dharkon to deliver the letters for the next Fighters' Pass.What could possibly go wrong?
Comments: 11
Kudos: 4





	Fighters' Pass Vol. 2: Electric Boogaloo

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost: This is a side-project, so expect long intervals between updates. (Not like I'm any better with my ACTUAL projects...) I'll write a new chapter for this fic whenever they reveal the next Fighters' Pass character, so...who knows? An update could come as early as tomorrow.
> 
> Roll tape! _*snaps fingers*_

“AUGH! THE CUCCOS! THEY’RE GONNA KILL US ALL!”

“No, they’re not, Marth. Shut up and eat your soup.”

“BUT THE CUCCOS!”

“The cuccos aren’t real, Marth, they can’t hurt you.”

“ _OH NAGA THEY’RE PECKING OUT MY EYEEEEEEEEEEEES!_ ”

Galeem groaned, internally debating the merits of throwing the soup into Marth’s face.

Recently, the mansion had been hit with a strain of what Dr. Mario termed “cucco pox”. It was quite like chicken pox, only instead of itching, you hallucinated a hailstorm of cuccos attacking you 24/7. It was so contagious that the only kind of people who couldn’t catch it were dead people.

For that, Galeem was rather thankful. It was a very begrudging thankfulness, though—for one thing, he was robbed the surely amusing sight of Dharkon flipping his shit over imaginary cuccos. For two thing, they were the only two people in the mansion who could care for everyone else.

“THEY’RE COMING! THEY’RE COMING!” Marth gave Galeem a pleading look. “LET ME OUT OF HERE, I NEED TO STOP THEM!”

Galeem sighed. “I’ll just leave it here when you’re ready.” He set the soup down on the bedside table and slipped through the curtains to the rest of the infirmary, where he was graced with blissful silence.*

“GAAAAAAH!”

That didn’t last long.

Dharkon darted out from behind a curtain, eye scrunched in frustration. He grabbed the closest breakable object—a plate—and threw it at the wall, shattering it. “I _hate_ taking care of people!”

If Galeem had had eyebrows, he would’ve raised one. “I take it something went wrong?”

“ _Yes!_ I was bringing medicine to Ness and he was having a lucid episode so everything was _fine_ for, like, two minutes, but then he got that crazy look in his eyes and I was like ‘Oh, crap’ and then it was all ‘ _PK Fire! PK Fire! PK Fire!_ ’”

“That would explain why the fire alarm has been going off for the past ten minutes.”

“Granted, he can’t move his hands, so he ended up setting himself on fire and shrieking that the cuccos had reflective shields.” _That_ had been Galeem’s own brilliant idea. To keep the Smashers from harming themselves or others during their freakouts, he and Dharkon had shut them all into straitjackets and duct-taped them to their beds. It’d been a major pain to do that over seventy times, but it was working. “So eventually, I just gave up.”

“Are you sure you should’ve left him on fire?”

“Eh, he’ll be fine. Probably.”

A cricket or two chirped following that statement.

“So,” Dharkon said, breaking the uncomfortably long silence. “What’s next?”

“GALEEM! DHARKON!”

“That, apparently.”

The two headed down the long rows of curtained-off beds to the end of the infirmary, on which was a window. Below that window was a bed, and duct-taped to that bed was Master Hand.

(Oh, yeah. He had the cucco pox too.)

“What is it?” Galeem asked, noticing the hand wasn’t thrashing around in his bed. That was good—it meant he was having a rare lucid episode.

Master Hand coughed dramatically. “We are…running out of time…” Another dramatic cough. “Please…you must—”

“Cut the crap,” Galeem said flatly. “You’re not dying.”

“…screw you,” Master Hand muttered. “Okay, so I _was_ going to deliver letters to everyone in the second Fighters’ Pass volume—”

“You’re bringing even _more?!_ ” Galeem yelled, not even trying to hide his disbelief. “We’re already crowded as it is!”

“Can you stop hogging the comments?” Dharkon muttered.

“No.”

“ _Anyway,_ ” the hand continued, clearly irritated, “I was going to deliver them, but then the cucco pox hit and I got _duct-taped_ to a _bed._ ”

“That was for your own good!”

“Whatever. I have no clue when this is going to let up, and these letters won’t deliver themselves, dammit! So…”

Galeem realized immediately what he was going to ask. “Oh no.”

“Oh _yes,_ ” Master Hand replied, trying to speak with authority (but failing, because he was duct-taped to a bed). “You two are going to take that stack of letters—” He gestured vaguely towards a stack of six envelopes on the floor “—and deliver all of them to the six new fighters I’ve invited.”

“Can’t you just ask the post office?” Dharkon asked.

“I would, except the post office is closed because they’re all celebrating Parakarry’s birthday.”

“What about the Smashers?” Galeem put in.

“Dr. Mario can take care of them.” (Dr. Mario, for the record, had broken free of the duct-tape and was now repeatedly belly-flopping on the floor and shrieking.) “Now, you need to deliver those letters. The first fighter is…”

Master Hand’s voice trailed off, and he was silent for a few seconds.

Then— “AUGH! NO! THEY’RE BACK! THE CUCCOS ARE BACK!”

“God damn it,” Galeem muttered.

“No no no! It’s okay! It’s okay!” Dharkon started moving closer to the shrieking, flailing hand. “They’re not here! They’re all in your head! Or whatever your equivalent is—”

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE! AAAAAAAAAH—” And with that, Master Hand threw himself out the window and took the bed with him.

For a few seconds, Galeem and Dharkon stared silently at the Master Hand-shaped hole in the window. Then, Dharkon shrugged and grabbed the letters. “Guess we’re doing this now!”

“Woah, woah, hold up,” Galeem said, holding up his wings. “You’re not _actually_ going to deliver those letters, are you?”

Dharkon looked at him like _he_ was the crazy one. “Well, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right? Besides, the Smashers can handle themselves! They’ve been able to for _years!_ ”

“Putting aside the whole ‘cucco pox’ thing, we don’t know anything about these new fighters! How are we supposed to deliver their letters?!”

Dharkon flipped one of the envelopes over and squinted at the back. “Well, we have names and addresses. It shouldn’t be _too_ hard to put two and two together!” He grinned (by which we mean “closed his eye in that upturned happy way”) and held out a claw. “You coming or not?”

Galeem was about to say no…and then he remembered trying to talk to screaming hallucinating people, so many fires that the fire alarm was going off almost 24/7, getting every manner of weapon, magic, and tech thrown at his face to kill imaginary cuccos…

“You know what? Sure. How hard can it possibly be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The curtains were soundproofed, for the record. Why? Who really knows.


End file.
